When I first dipped my toes into BDSM, I felt like an explorer setting off without a map. Some of the women I dated brought up an interest in dominance and submission, but I didn’t really know what they meant.
I’d read about what a Dom “should” be. The archetype was always so sure of himself, giving commands with ease and controlling every moment with confidence. But I didn’t feel like that guy at all.
I tried to get my footing the way most people do. Scouring the internet, websites and forums, hoping for some concrete advice on how to be a Dominant that would make me feel like one.
But everything I found was either too vague or too fantasy-based. Most of the time I’d just end up looking at Tumblr (remember that?) photos wondering if what was shown was a realistic depiction of dominance and submission or a stylised version of it.
What I really wanted to know was what did these women who wanted me to ‘dominate them’ mean? And how should I balance ravaging them with caring about them to ensure they were actually enjoying themselves. And where did my pleasure fit into all this? Being a Dom felt like a lot of pressure on me to perform, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that. It doesn’t seem as though it would make my sex life any better. Where was the line between being a Dominant that was just a tool for the sub to get their fantasies met, and being a Dominant that was overly domineering and couldn’t care less what their partner’s desires were?
The resources available rarely touched on that side of BDSM. In fact, they rarely gave any advice on the psychological side of dominance (which is probably why I like to write about that the most). They just listed ‘mechanics’ to use. Like spanking. Or bondage. Or rough sex.
It seemed kind of obvious WHAT actions I should be doing, but I still wasn’t sure the way in which I should do them, and how I could even tell what my partner wanted.
(Much later I’d learn that people who say ‘just dominate me’ probably don’t know what they want, and are most likely inexperienced or poor communicators. That’s why they can’t verbalise their desires. There are also those who think that telling your partner exactly what you want ‘kills the mood’ and that a good Dom should be able to guess. To those people, I say — err, no).
The pressure of performing
Each time I went on a date with someone new and the conversation turned to them enjoying some element of submission, I’d feel a mix of excitement and fear. Excitement that ‘Yes! I’ve finally met someone who will let me explore BDSM with them’. Fear that I wouldn’t live up to being the Dominant they expected.
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I felt like I had some experience of being a Dom, but was it enough? Was I just an actor playing a part?
It became clear to me that most of the women into submission I met didn’t want a Dom who just played a role. They wanted someone real, someone who listened, someone who cared. It dawned on me that I was wasting energy trying to be the Dom from a movie scene, when what I really needed to do was figure out who I was as a Dominant. That shift – understanding that I didn’t have to “perform” dominance – was a big leap forward in my thinking.
Was communication really the answer?
The more I dated, the more my communication skills improved. Not necessarily because I was trying. It happened naturally. I’d had enough experience with D/s dynamics that I knew it was what I wanted. And I’d spoken with enough people to know that I wasn’t some sort of freak – these desires were okay, and not misogynistic (as some dates had tried to tell me).
That acceptance led to me being more honest with dates. More willing to share my desires, and more comfortable asking about theirs. I’ve always found that if I approached a topic with curiosity, and was willing to ask and listen to what someone else thought about it, they’d open up and share their thoughts. Very few people seem to have been asked directly what they like in bed, and although a bit shocking at first, if done in a low pressure way, they are extremely grateful.
Think about that for a second. Imagine you have had sex with someone for the first time, and afterwards they take the time to ask “Hey, what did you think when I did X? I noticed you tensed up a little and I couldn’t tell if you liked it or not. I just wanted to check”. Would you think more of that person or less?
I’m sure you’d be appreciative of the question. If you didn’t enjoy what they were doing this is the perfect time to tell them. And if you did enjoy it, it’s also the perfect time to tell them! Either way you are going to have better sex the next time around.
So I began asking more questions
I began asking about my partners’ boundaries, their fantasies, their hopes for what a D/s dynamic could be. And the answers kept coming (and so did they, giggity). This approach built relationships where both of us were free to express when things were good, not so good, or downright terrible. It allowed us to share that weird kink which one of us might otherwise have been embarrassed about. It allowed us to correct issues before they became catastrophes.
Through these conversations, I found that becoming better at a Dom was less about taking control and more about creating a space where we both felt open enough to express ourselves fully. Perhaps one of the roles of a good Dominant should be to facilitate the creation of this space?
I know that sounds incredibly pretentious. Two people are responsible for creating the space. But I do still believe, especially as someone who naturally attracts more submissive partners, and particularly in a world where there are double standards between men and women when it comes to sex, and women can be shamed for being sexually active or liberated, that a female sub is less likely to take the lead and initiate these kinds of conversation. And before you write your attacking comments, I’m not saying women or subs are not capable of creating this space or initiating these conversations. I’m saying, in my experience, it has typically been me who has been asking the questions, perhaps because by the time I’d figured all this out I typically had more experience of BDSM than my partners.
I realised that a good Dom isn’t someone who always knows what to do. A good Dom is someone who creates an atmosphere of trust, where both people feel safe enough to explore. Building that trust helped me gain confidence, and it showed my partners that I saw them as more than just “submissives”. We are all people who want to feel safe, understood, respected, and have our needs met.
Weirdly, I’d come full circle. Before BDSM I’d always focused on understanding my partner, what they enjoyed sexually, and making sure we are both having fun.
And now, even with BDSM thrown in, I was back in this place (just doing kinkier shit with better communication). Maybe I’d been embodying the traits of a good Dominant for all these years after all.
My own style of dominance
As I let go of the idea of “acting” dominant, I found myself stepping into a role that felt more like me. Dominance, I realised, didn’t have to mean barking orders or being hyper-masculine.
Instead, it could be calm, even nurturing (Daddy Dom, anyone?). I discovered that I enjoyed guiding my partners through experiences that challenged their limits, not by forcing them but by supporting them. In that way, dominance became less about control and more about creating a secure, inviting space for both of us to grow and push boundaries together. I believe this ties nicely into my enjoyment of corrupting innocence (Corruption Kink, anyone?), of helping people, and of teaching (I teach to some degree in my day job, so performing and educating has always been something I enjoyed).
In each scene, I focused on reading my partner’s responses, adapting to their needs, and making sure they had fun. I learned that dominance didn’t have to be intense and demanding to be effective. Dominance, in my style, is about being attuned, and able to hold the reins with a steady hand rather than a tight grip.
Some might call this a Soft Dom or Romantic Dom or Pleasure Dom approach. I’m fine with that. Even if you do enjoy more intense BDSM, I still maintain that communication and the ability to create a space where everyone can grow is a skill everyone should practise.
My journey continues
I’ve made, and will continue to make, many mistakes as a Dominant.
There were times when I pushed a little too far or held back more than I should have. Forgetting rules and punishments happens all the time.
I learned that hesitation can leave a partner feeling uncertain, and going too fast can do the same. Each mistake taught me a valuable lesson about listening to my partner, trusting myself, and understanding that both of us needed room to navigate the experience.
Dominance is an ongoing journey. There is no “final destination” where you have it all figured out, and that’s what makes the role so meaningful. The mistakes aren’t setbacks; they’re milestones marking each new level of awareness and understanding.
My journey isn’t over yet, and my style of dominance will continue to evolve.
You also have to decide if you want to be a Dominant who sticks to your style no matter who your partner is (nothing wrong with that, just make sure you partner wants the same things you do), or a Dominant who is turned on by the psychological aspects of dominance and is happy to try out different styles and kinks depending upon their partner. Both are fine approaches, in my opinion, as long as you aren’t completely altering what being dominant means just for the sake of your partner alone and not getting anything out of it yourself.
What being a ‘Dom’ or a ‘sub’ means is ultimately up to you. The labels we use in the community for different styles of BDSM are just that – labels. As Echart Tolle says:
“Don’t get stuck on the level of words. A word is no more than a means to an end. It’s an abstraction. Not unlike a signpost, it points beyond itself.”
– Eckhart Tolle
But above all else, I want to continue to have fun. That’s the most important part for me. Sex should be fun. Dating should be fun. And a relationship isn’t just about D/s and BDSM – there has to be something else there too (but that’s a whole other article).
To anyone beginning this journey, I would say this: let go of the idea that you have to “be” a certain way. Find what feels true to you, talk openly with your partners, and remember that dominance is built on consent and trust, not perfection.
Each experience will teach you more about yourself and bring you closer to becoming the kind of Dom you’re meant to be.
